


Sickly and Sweet

by Real Life Inspires (Teddy_Feathers)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones, Avoidant Personality Disorder, Codependency, F/M, How Do I Tag, I don't know what I'm doing, I just really wanted to adopt a bitty okay?, Yandere AU, Yandere Sans, adoption kinda, brassberry - Freeform, shameless self insert, some small horror themes, sometimes you just need someone to be an asshole to you, sometimes you just need someone to cuddle with, you'll hate it promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:08:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy_Feathers/pseuds/Real%20Life%20Inspires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sorry. I just wanted a bitty. </p><p>Prob doing this all wrong. All well. This is for fun. Story will be 1/2 in first person 1/2 from Brassberrys POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preamble

**Author's Note:**

> BittyBones AU where you can adopt your very own tiny skeletal companion belongs to [Momma Cry](http://fucken-crybaby.tumblr.com/BittybonesAU).
> 
> Brassberry and the Yandere AU belongs to [Ammazolie](http://ammazippy.tumblr.com/) here's the SFW blog cause yandere au is a lot adult.

Avoidant Personality Disorder with Dependent and Masochistic tendencies.

At first I was happy with the label. After all it certainty sounded like me. Pushing away people, desperately not wanting to be alone, and yet not believing I don’t deserve on some - if not many - levels to be miserable.

But the thing the shrink lady made clear to me was that having a fancy label didn’t fix all that. That it was simply who I was there was no FIXING me, there was only learning how to deal with things. Set myself up for successes instead of failure.

There is no easy fix. No magic pill.

Because I am how I am, I do a lot of stupid shit. Been told I have ADD or ADHD or that maybe I'm bipolar. But nah after the fact I can trace everything I do or feel back to those three traits, you know?

Avoidant

Dependent

Masochistic

So that’s me. A mess with ups and downs. But all that is beside the point I suppose. You’re here for a bitty story, right?

Well here’s mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real first chapter up in a few. Sorry to disappoint ^~^


	2. Nice to Eat You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I pretend I live in a horror movie, and bite off more than I can chew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - I have a weird sense of humor and think I'm funny. I'm really not.

I'm always a little bit behind the curve you know? Takes several months to a year before I actually come across the thing that everyone is talking about.

I mean. I'll hear about it. I knew there were bittys out there, but I was caught up in other things at the time. Wasn’t until things started getting bad for me emotionally that I actually looked into it.

Momma Cry was _The_ bitty lady apparently. Again I'd heard of her but never really looked into going myself. Lord knows I can’t have anyone depend on me - not for real. The second they put all their trust in me I panic and leave.

But I want that emotional attachment. Crave it all the time even as I lash out and run from it.

There’s no way I could take care of something that wasn’t somewhat independent and wouldn’t mind the days I couldn’t spare it attention... like a cat. A sentient creature was _way_ beyond my abilities to handle.

So of course my mind wouldn’t stop taunting me with it.

This thing that I want but really shouldn’t have.

A friend that wouldn’t leave even if I was clingy or hermit-ing away. That needed me like no one else but could survive on its own... I wanted one _bad_. And that was pretty fucked up of me. They were _people_ after all.

I killed a cactus once.

I should not be trusted with living things, let alone people.

I exist to disappoint myself and others.

Regardless, I wanted one.

Looked into them. Researched the different types. I had nightmares and daymares of all the possible ways I could accidentally hurt, break, or even kill a bitty emotionally or physically on accident. . . or on purpose when lashing out emotionally. Or through neglect when I just can’t give a damn no matter how hard I try.

I am a _mess_.

Any bitty deserves better than me.

But nothing else could satisfy that need for connection.

I finally decided to just look. Just go in and look.

It took me ages to talk myself into the store and I almost left when the person at the desk asked if I needed any help. But I managed a mumble. Something polite and none committal and then took a look around.

So many bittys.

Thankfully not underfoot or climbing on me. I could observe from a distance. They looked so happy. Happy to be here at the shop. Happy to interact with humans. _Happy_.

I wanted to be happy.

Being happy always ended poorly for me though. Mostly cause my brain was a fucking masochist but also because I tended to do things impulsively. There was a fifty/fifty shot of me walking out of there with a bitty.

 _Any_ bitty.

Even if we weren’t at all suited to one another.

Simply because I was a needy fucker who wanted a friend and couldn’t make any the normal way or keep any over time.

I wandered a bit, slowly getting used to the cheery atmosphere of the place. I liked it... But at the same time I didn’t. Felt like lies. Comforting lies I didn’t want to hear aimed at me, but desperately wanted to make a reality for someone else.

_Everything is going to be okay._

Maybe if I could make that true for someone else I’d feel better about the fact it _never_ would be true for me.

 

I think when I walked in there I was interested in an edgy.

They’re difficult. I figured I might be able to handle them seeing as it sounded like they share a lot of the same qualities as me. But... One of those qualities was the need to feel loved and sometimes on bad days I don't believe in love just manipulation and dependency. The rest of the time I'm crap at showing I care. I mean. I try, but half of the time me  _showing_ I care is a pretty see through attempt at getting people to like me.

Not at all what an edgy needs.

To be fair I'm not what anyone needs. Too fucked up in my head and emotions. Going to Momma Cry’s place was a stupid idea on my part. Should have known better really.

I looked over the other bittys halfheartedly, but I'd already managed to talk myself out of the one I wanted. Which was good, right? I liked being independent. Didn't want to give that up, not for anyone.

Just needed to stop wanting to have my cake and eat it too.

 

I went to leave and that’s when this story really gets started.

Because fact of the matter is I'm directionally impaired as all out fuck. Put me inside a building, and without very large and obvious flashing exit sign, I'll never find my way out.

So instead of leaving I went deeper into the place. I mean. I could tell I hadn't been here before, and the halls got darker and less populated, but I was curious and had nowhere else to be. Taking the scenic root out of the building didn’t seem like a problem really.

* * *

 A human was wandering in the back. The sound of someone where they shouldn't be, when they shouldn't be woke him up.

It was near closing. The bittys not on display were already sent to bed, medications and treatments given, the lights were dimmed and the thermostat knocked down a couple of degrees for sleeping. No one came back here this time of night.

He sat up and looked around. No one else was up. Then again they got the good stuff to knock them out seeing as they were actually in pain.

Usually the med center was for abused and sick bittys. He was just a brassberry. The only reason he was even in here was because of his constant head wound. Well that and the fact someone had  _tried_ to abuse him. He ate the bastard though so as far as he was concerned the situation was over. He didn't much feel like sticking around and talking about it with some bitty life coach about it. But the wound had to be cleaned daily and he couldn't do it himself.

The sound of shuffling feet got closer.

Rubbing his aching sockets he decided to go check it out. Everyone else was helpless and any human looking to take advantage of that... He grinned.

 

Everything in the bitty shop was bitty friendly. Well. Everything but those damn glass timeout tanks for heats and trouble makers. But everything from the doors to the light switches were set up to be easy for a bitty to get to and use.

He made quick work of them, locking doors and shutting off the dim lights in an ever shrinking circle around the human. Sadly he was using a lot of energy to shortcut all over, but it was definitely worth it.

Already the human seemed agitated, looking lost and confused. Bonus she wasn't one of the workers. He could have some fun.

 

"I suppose if this were a horror movie, I'd be chopped up and fed to the bittys with their kibble." Her voice was a soft nervous murmur. She laughed but it sounded forced. "Tuesday is soylent green day."

His deep rumbling chuckle was much more sincere.

She jumped and looked around, but of course saw nothing and no one. Human eyes were useless in the dark, and he kept on the move, cutting out the lights faster and closer.

"Tuesdays are taco days here. But I suppose they could always feed you to _me_ to cover up your murder." The human stopped walking, still searching the dark for him, spinning uselessly in circles.

Her hand went to her chest. "Dude if this is a horror story, than my death isn’t a murder. Its suicide through sheer stupidity."

"Aint that the damn truth." The bland agreement startled an honest laugh out of her.

Finally the last light was out. He kept his distance, but she didn't seem the least bit aggressive. The human had backed into the wall of the corridor, and was hunched into herself slightly.

"Why’re you here anyways, sweet meat?" Fun and games aside, she wasn't supposed to be back here. He closed his eyes, stretching his magic out to get a feel for her. 

"Metaphysically or literally?" The human was full of fear, hovering between the fun sort and the serious belief he was going to eat her. She had no LV, no EXP, but she could still be here with bad intent.

He growled, one of his specialties.

Dread spiked and she crouched down into herself more, putting her hands up placatingly.

“Just looking at the bittys and got lost.” The smart-assed tone was gone and he was sorry to see it go. She wasn't going to cause any trouble, he could feel it.

But there was something familiar there, something dangerous and sharp, so he pushed deeper.

“Why do you want a bitty?” On the outside she was quite, but inside was speaking plenty. Longing. Denial of that longing. Loneliness, but also a steal rod of distance. Reading souls wasn't like reading a mind, or even reading emotions exactly. It was swimming in everything a person was and seeing what traits would surface with the next wave. Sometimes it was easy to interpret, and sometimes it was unfathomable.

A great resolve stilled the humans soul. “To punish myself for existing and reward myself for keeping it that way.”

 

That sounded... That felt desperate. Inside and out.

Opening his eyes, he considered the human. She looked so very lost. 

There were a handful of bittys in the next room who'd probably be good for her, if he was any judge. Ones for her to take care of, ones that'd take care of her. But she was a  _mess._ Everything directed inwards, bent on crushing her. The human was looking to self-destruct and calling out for help in the only way she felt safe doing. Pretty sure no bitty, however dedicated they were to one another could save her from herself.

She _was_ dangerous.

A low cough was followed by a subject change. “Hey, uh, don’t know if you’re kosher with last requests, but if you’re going to eat me can I at least be dead first?" Was she trying to lighten the mood by reminding the big bad monster in the dark that it had been threatening to eat her?

He chuckled. “What fun would that be?” He was teasing, mostly, and she seemed to get that.

Playing along the human let out an exaggerated sigh, finally dropping her hands. “Fair point. I mean it’s awful to contemplate happening to _me_ , but I suppose if I ate people I'd want them to watch and scream and such too. Dinner and a show, right?"

Affecting disappointment, he moved closer. “Ain’t gonna beg?”

“Don’t worry, the crying, screaming, and begging will start as soon as you start to dig in." She reassured him. "I'm a wuss. Can’t stand pain.”

“Oh really?” Anger spiked through him. Couldn't tolerate pain but was drowning herself in it.

Yeah. She was dangerous. Because he'd decided he liked her, cared. And he didn't tolerate people hurting those he cared about. Even if it was themselves doing the hurting.

He took a shortcut to her shoulder and ripped the flappy part of her ear clean off with his teeth, then teleported back off of her.

High, and sharp, like a little girl she screamed. The human managed to cut it off almost as soon as she started. He swallowed his bit of ear. Her eyes were full of tears, but her teeth were bared and even as she clung to the side of her head and backed down the hallway she didn't start begging.

Pride flooded him for his human.

She was a mess, but she _wasn't_ weak.

* * *

 

The lights flickered on and the woman from the front desk hurried over to where I was hunched over, hands holding the side of my head and cursing at both the pain and the sharp glare of sudden light.

She crouched over me. “Are you alright?”

Did it look like I was? Pretty sure that is the stupidest question known to man. I bit my lip so I wouldn't say that out loud, because that’d be mean and uncalled for and she was just trying to be nice.

My eyes watered and she reached out to touch me and I flinched away. "You’re not supposed to be back here."

Slowly I straightened, still firmly pressing my hands against the pain. “Sorry sorry. Just making friends.” Not quite a lie.

She looked nervously around. “Oh please don’t tell me you brought one of the bittys with you!” She sounded honestly distressed. “This is where we keep the troubled bittys. They don’t play well with the others.”

Pulling my hands away I tilted my wound towards her. “S'okay. Just me learning that the hard way. Mind showing me the way out?”

She wanted to fuss and I wanted to leave. I managed to be apologetic and smile enough to convince her I was fine and slip away relatively unsmothered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I feel sorry for the six of you who gave me kudos. You don't have to kudos I swear. Also sorry for the delay. Meant a few minutes not hours but alas...life.


	3. Hello operater give me number I'm fine, please don't disconnect me 'cause I'm lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I called for help, and don't like what I got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home sweet holey socks.

The walk home was cold. My ear and head hurt. I just wanted to sleep.

Yay the inevitable crash that follows stressful events.

Home wasn’t much. Crappy little apartment. Another good reason not to bring any sort of pet home. Living in this place was a choice on my part, but anyone else would have to suffer through it with me and that struck me as unfair.

My curtains are thin shit, and reddish yellow street light filtered in giving me plenty of light. Just wanted to crash but my ear needed taking care of. Figured I'd wash it and then crash. No need for bright garish indoor lighting.

Opening the medicine cabinet above the sink, I pulled out the bottle of alcohol. It stung like a bitch and my crusted over ear started bleeding, but a bandage would take care of that.

Shutting the door to the cabinet, I leaned into the mirror to get a look at the damage - only to see a small skeleton with moonlight eyes staring at me.

From my shoulder.

Underneath the freely bleeding ear lobe.

I could feel the shiver build in my body as my mind tried to reprocess what I was seeing and make him not real.

“Mmmm tastey.” Rumbled the very real monster, meeting my eyes in the mirror and leaning over to lick my wound with a green glowing tongue. I could feel the split tips of it lightly scoop up the blood from the jagged edge of my ear.

The shiver went through me as a huge convulsion.

I pushed away from the sink and the sight of the tiny monster threatening to devour me. The scream I wanted to let out turned into a string of mangled curses as my ass hit the floor.

Frantically I brushed off my shoulder, but he wasn’t there. _He wasn’t there._

My eyes found him laughing down at me from the edge of the sink. I scrambled away quickly, slammed the bathroom door closed, and leaned against it.

This couldn’t be happening. This really couldn’t be happening.

I wanted to escape, to crawl, stand, run away, but I also knew that as long as I was leaning against the door he was trapped and couldn’t get me. Him not getting me was the most important thing in the world to me at that moment.

I was afraid.

It didn’t matter that he was tiny in comparison. The power dynamic was set from the start of our relationship and I was most defiantly not at the top of the food chain.

His laughter trailed off into silence and then, just as my breathing and heart had slowed he started humming.

Happily.

Like a fucking little dead kid in a horror movie.

Don't get me wrong - I love horror movies. But THAT? That was too much and highly unfair.

 

I dug out my phone and searched for Momma Cry’s shop. There was a 24hr line for emergencies and returns and I called it desperately.

I barely listened to the voice at the other end of the line going through the usual ‘Momma Cry’s this is the oh so friendly desk lady how may I help you’ spiel.

“Look I was just there and attacked by one of your troubled bittys, and he followed me home, and now he’s in my bathroom, and I’m afraid to leave the door because he might get out. What do I do? _Please_ help.” Half way through I’d started crying. By the end I was flat out begging. The humming behind me had stopped, but I hadn’t noticed.

The woman put me on hold.

Fuck my life.

I knew I was over reacting. The damn thing was only the size of one of my hands, and while my ear ached it was a little damn wound, just couldn't wear ear rings any more. No big deal right? But I was scared, and a coward, and _couldn’t fucking chill_.

I had just stopped crying and was taking deep shuddering breaths, when someone picked up the line again.

“This is Momma Cry dear. Can you describe the bitty to me?”

“I - I don’t know. It was dark. But it was a skeleton –” _No shit Sherlock_ “–  and he had glowy eyes, and a split tipped tongue like a snake, and he’s going to eat me, and I didn’t mean to steal him, I really didn’t, it was an accident, and I don’t know what to do.”

I hated this side of me. The sniveling little brat who needed someone to hold their hand and guide them through every little thing.

Fucking dependence.

“Hey now shhhhh. It’s all right. Adoption is a formality. I just want to see all the bittys go to good homes. It’s quite normal for bittys to sneak home with people they feel comfortable with.”

Being hushed like a child over the phone didn’t calm me down, it was irritating and made me feel inferior and helped my masochism point out how much of a complete baby I was being.

 _Get a grip_ , I told myself.

This is fine.

I could handle this.

Somehow.

I let out a choked sound that a generous person might label a laugh. "If this is what he’s like when he’s comfortable than I never want to piss him off."

I heard the snort just on the other side of the door and flinched, clutching the phone in my hand a bit tighter as my only life line.

"Very true. The more difficult bittys can be quite intimidating when they’re upset." Momma Cry was surprisingly bad at being reassuring. “What color was the tongue dear? Was it red?"

I shook my head.

Red was an edgy. I had no fucking clue what the thing was in my bathroom but I was betting an edgy would have been a cake walk compared to this. Wrecking what little I had was much preferable to wrecking _me_.

It took me a second to realize she was still waiting on an answer because sadly my stupid head didn’t rattle emptily like it should have.

“Geenish. Teal maybe? I dunno. Blue green.”

“Ah.” She sounded pleased. Why did she sound pleased? The tiny thing was going to eat me alive. Literally. “That’s a brassberry. A yandere type.”

“... Like the anime trope? I'll love you TO DEATH? No one else can have you the competition must _die_? That sort of yandere?”

“Yes. Exactly like that dear.” As if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Now do you have any other pets? Or a significant other or family living with you?”

I caught myself shaking my head again. “No. It’s just me.” I was proud of my independence even as I felt that nagging ache to not be alone.

“Well then. Everything is probably fine then.”

“Probably?” I squeaked. PROBABLY _Fine?_!?

Momma Cry’s voice was firm. “Probably. You’ll have to ask him yourself to be absolutely sure. But he came home with you on purpose and brassberrys have somewhat of a different sense of humor. This sounds like normal bonding behavior.”

“Sounds like? He bit me! Not a little love nip, but tore a chunk out of my ear. He’s not like an edgy at all. Hes a people eater! Not like a tsundere fucking edgy lady! In fact this guy isn’t on your site. He isn’t _remotely_ close to any of the other bittys. What is he? Because it really sounds like you don’t know.”

There was the sound of rustling papers and a heavy sigh. “Yandere types aren’t actually mine, there from a friend of mine Ammazolie. I have the basic care instructions and every once in a while I get a couple in, but they aren’t as widely adopted as the rest of my bittys. Many attract abusive caretakers. Worse than edgys even, simply because they bond hard and fast with their humans.”

Heh. God I understood that. Getting attached for no good reason to people who either I'd be better off without or they’d be better off without me.

“I do know from my interactions with them that brassberrys are very protective over those they care about and jealous of their friends’ attention. It doesn’t have to be on them all the time, in fact they’d prefer if it wasn’t, but they don’t much like to share it either.”

Again this was hitting too close to home. I thunked my head against the bathroom door. I was tempted damn it. The fucker scared the mother loving crap out of me and I was still tempted to keep him, because of what? A sob story similar to my own?

"So what he’s like a sword, I bled on him and now he’s mine forever?" Useless trivia and sarcasm. Humor coping mechanism engaged. 

"Well no. It is early enough that I could take him back and he might move on. It’s just yanderes are a bit... Obsessive." Right of course they are. Fucking anime trope.

What I was hearing is that the damn thing got attached and would either stalk me until I had a heart attack or he died. Fucking bittys fall down and dust from the littlest things.

Damn it.

I am a fucking STUPID sap.

“I'll…” I hesitated a bit, feeling like shit and couldn’t believe I was going to say this. “I'll talk to him. Just give me some basic care instructions because I know fuck all about taking care of a bitty.” Or any sort of pet. Or myself. The hell was I doing?

“Well he can eat anything though he’s bound to have preferences. Oh! But you must make sure to feed him raw meat at least four times a week. And he has a wound on his head that needs care daily to keep it from getting infected. That’s it really. Bittys are very intelligent and he shouldn’t need much coaxing to tell you anything he needs or want from you. And if you two can’t work something out he’s always welcome back here. Good luck dear.”

“Wait wait wait –” I wasn’t nearly ready to be left alone.

In the dark.

With the scary bitty.

"What’s the likely hood of me waking up to him spooning out my eyes for breakfast?” I muttered into the dial tone before hanging up.

* * *

Maybe fucking with his human wasn't exactly nice seeing as he'd already made sure she was terrified of him... But it _was_ funny. Besides, who knew how long his upswing in mood would last. Had to enjoy it while it lasted.

Her face was priceless though. And he hadn't been lying, even around the nasty flavor of antiseptic her blood was tasty. 

She crawled across the floor and slammed the door behind her, obviously having forgotten that it opened inwards and that bracing herself against it wouldn't do much to keep him in.

He started humming, wanting to build up the tension a bit. Here in a minute he'd open the door and sending the human sprawling again. Honestly he hadn't felt this good in ages. His last human hadn't been near as much fun, and apparently only wanted him to 'break' him.

Seemed to forget that brassberrys came prebroken courtesy of Ammazolie.

...

But this, this was new and interesting and the human obviously had a sense of humor, and eventually she'd catch on that he was just fuckin' with 'em...

 Or not.

She was blubbering on the phone to Cry.

Had he taken things too far? Maybe he'd misjudged her, maybe she really couldn't handle having him around. He was kinda a freak. She could barely handle herself, what was he thinking forcing her to become his human? That he could _help?_ That she was so desperate she'd have to take him because no one else could possibly love her even when she had already made it impossible for her to love herself?

"If this is what he’s like when he’s comfortable than I never want to piss him off." Despite her obvious upset, the human kept trying to turn things around. Make the worst possible things sound funny. He snorted.

Alright so they'd started off rocky...and would probably continue on that way. Neither of them were cut out for a normal 'healthy' relationship.

It'd work out fine.

After all he was a bitty. Bittys made people happy. Was in their make up.

So what if she tried sending him back to Fucken Cry? He had a feel for her soul. He could find her anywhere. The reason this was going to work was because she was _his_ human. Didn't much give a flying fuck about his own needs, but he could _make_ her care about her own. 

The human derailed his plans though. Surprise Surprise she was going to try and keep him.

Rubbing his aching sockets he tried to decide how he felt about that. Did he dare hope she'd actually come to care for _him_? Or did he chalk all of this up to both of them just needing someone to take care of so badly, that they'd settle for anything?

It was too damn late to be thinkin' this hard or feeling this much.

 

The sound of hard plastic hitting the ground announced the end of the phone call. "What’s the likely hood of me waking up to him spooning out my eyes for breakfast?” She was obviously talking to herself, but that was a bad habit to have with him around. Wasn't gonna pretend like he hadn't heard her.

"Well it goes up exponentially the longer you keep me in here sweet meat." The door shuddered in its frame as she jumped, apparently having forgotten he was here.

He listened as she climbed to her feet, the sound of a switch flicking and the hum of electric lights. Watched the door knob turn and then stop.

“What the hell could you possibly want from me?” The self-depreciating tone irritated him to no end.

What did he want? He wanted someone to take care of him, to care as strongly and deeply and quickly for him as he did for them. He wanted to be the center of someones world, and to have made their world better for having been in it. He wanted to save and protect someone from all the awful things, things he'd lived through but they wouldn't have to as long as he was around.

His growl echoed loudly in the tiled bathroom. What did he want? He wanted his damn human. “I want you. To open. _The door_.” The slow angry tone promised worse things would happen to her if she didn't that if she did.

The door eased open.

He teleported off the sink and onto the floor in front of her. They stared at one another. She looked uncertain but no longer so terribly afraid of him.

It was a start.

He took another shortcut to her shoulder, facing her injured ear. “You’re mine now sweet meat. Got it?” He whispered into it.

She nodded obediently, probably worried he was going to take another chunk out of her. But he wasn't hungry, he was exhausted.

“Good.” He yawned, dropping down to sit and lean against her neck. “Now let’s go the fuck to sleep.”

“Should I –” Rumbling he cut her off. Eventually she'd have to grow a backbone, or it'd drive him insane. But for now it'd certainly make training her easier.

 

The day dawned early and bright. The curtains did nothing to block out the dawn. His human merely scooted over out of the pool of light and went back to sleep. That wouldn't do at all.

If he was up, so should his human be.

Climbing up onto her chest he looked down at her sleeping face. So relaxed. So peaceful...

He grinned wickedly.

Leaning over her chin, he pressed a hand against her lips, a parody of covering her mouth. Her eyes cracked open in a squint, unfocused looking for what had woken her. He waited until her pupils dilated with recognition and then spoke in his most menacing tone.

" **Boo**."

She jerked upright and he flashed away to the edge of the bed, snickering to himself. It was just so much fun to tease her. “Heh. Well sweet meat? Let’s go.”

He teleported down to the bathroom, managing to get the medicine cabinet open and climbed around looking for the things they both needed. Q-tips, cotton circle pads, band aids... Where was she? He growled, enjoying the amplification the bathroom provided. Better not have gone back to sleep.

The second wake up would not be as pleasant as the first had been... But she spared herself that, wandering in and looking between the mess in the sink and where he sat at the back of it, kicking his booted feet against the porcelain.

He leaned forward, careful not to fall into the sink bowl, and pointed at the crusty mess that was her left ear. She hadn't bandaged it and in the bright light of day it looked awful. 

Her hand rose up to touch it and she looked confused. Not surprising really. “You’re being helpful?”

He shrugged easily and clacked his teeth together, grinning when she jumped. "You're mine now sweet meat. I marked you and everything. I take care of what’s mine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I miss my shitty little apartment. That's the real reason I'm writing this. Obviously.


	4. Its only weird if you're wet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show of hands: who else finds domestic necessities boring?

The words were almost sweet if more than a little ominous.

I wasn’t sure what to do with this information. In the bright light of day he wasn't any less intimidating, ankle height non-withstanding, but... He was being nice. “Oh. Ok.”

People being nice to me always throws me off. I don't know how to handle it. At all.

So I didn't.

Instead I focused on easier, simpler things. I scooped the mess out of the sink and turned the facet on to just above lukewarm, though first thing in the morning it took forever for it to warm up beyond ice cold.

I let the water run, not waiting as I cupped some in my hand and began rinsing the dried blood off the side of my neck. Closing the mirror I confirmed that I looked like shit. I'd slept fine for once but that only served to make me look more haggard and tired, and the red tinged water from where I was carefully cleaning my ragged ear reminded me of the first blood drawn in a horror flick.

Wasn't this a horror story though? He'd threatened to eat me and then followed me home. Hadn't wanted to be alone anymore, not sure I could stand it much longer, but this isn't what I had in mind when I went in to look at the bittys.

This was better in a way though wasn't it? Staring at my reflection I felt something dark in me, reminding me that in the end I was more afraid of myself than anyone else. Now at least I wasn't the only monster in the house.

He stood and stretched, drawing my attention back down, away from feelings I'd rather ignore. His shirt was the same blue green as the light that flashed when he teleported. What was that color called? Turquoise? It was going to drive me crazy until I figured it out.

His jeans were strategically ripped all over and his leather jacket was covered in small silver spikes. At the collar, at the elbows, at the shoulders, even around the wrists and waist. Touching him was obviously to be done with caution.

Everything around the brassberry was probably best done with caution, all things considered.

Either oblivious to or ignoring my inspection he slid off his coat and then started to strip. I looked away, embarrassed, though I wasn’t quite sure why seeing as he was a skeleton. Soaking a cotton pad in alcohol, I held my breath and gingerly applied it to my ear. Maybe it was just because anything that wore clothes deserved privacy to take them off in, regardless of what they may or may not have under them.

The water running in the sink started splattering and sure enough the bitty was under the stream, taking a shower.

I thought about leaving, but he seemed unconcerned with my stupid notions of modesty.

"Lend a guy a hand?"

“I'm sorry?”

He gestured to the wash cloth hanging on the rack.

Ah yes. My apartment wasn’t exactly bitty friendly.

I followed the instruction, first getting it wet while he stood to the side of the sink and then rubbing the soap between my hands in the cloth to get it soapy. He took it from me and vigorously started scrubbing himself down like anyone would. And it was probably good he didn’t seem bothered by my staring, because it was odd watching a skeleton bath between his bones and I wasn’t quite able to force myself to look away like I should.

Part of that was probably that despite being a no shit skeleton he seemed to have a translucent jade colored body; that stretched down his back, under his ribs, and half way down his legs . I couldn’t decide if it was more or less disturbing than just the spine - which was still clearly visible by the way - holding up his top half all by itself would have been.

He finished quickly and tossed the wash cloth to drape over the side of the sink and then turned to face me.

“Alright, now comes the fun part.” He said with a grimace. He tilted his head towards me out of the water and I finally noticed the band aid on top of his head. No idea how I missed it before seeing as it took up the majority of the top of his skull.

He gave the universal sharp wave for 'get on with it' and carefully I peeled it off. Luckily the water had loosened the adhesive.

I wasn’t exactly prepared for what I found underneath.

A crevice in his head, cracks webbing out from it, and the dark gleam of blue magic pooling there like stagnant water.

I jerked my hands away from him. He was _hurt._ Not just a little thing either, but something that looked possibly life threatening. ‘Are you okay climbed’ uselessly up my throat, but died on my lips. Such a stupid thing to say. I hated people asking me that, and I couldn’t imagine I'd like it any better if I had a huge gouge in my head. Instead I settled for "What the hell happened?"

The way he had his head tilted down and his eyes flicked up to the top of his sockets emphasized the worn, almost tired looking groves under them. For once he didn’t look like a cocky confident threat. He looked about as shitty as I felt most days.

“S’nuthin to worry about. S’normal. Need you to clean it with alcohol though.”

How in the world was that normal? I shuddered in sympathy. Alcohol was going to burn like a bitch in that thing. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to be here. I felt guilty, insanely guilty even though it wasn't my fault. He needed help though but he was stuck with me.

Right. He was stuck with me. Somebody had to do it. Even if I fucked it up, it was better than leaving the wound looking that sickly right?

I got a q-tip dipped in the bottle and as gently as possible, rubbed it around the edge of the wound wiping up leftover adhesive. The water poured over and through his bones but he stood perfectly still. Kept his eyes on me as I cleaned around the wound.

Stalling.

I didn't want to do this.

My eyes locked onto his silvery ones. In a single swipe I quickly dipped it into the gap and jerked my hand away. He didn’t flinch or scream or lash out. I wanted to do all three. More than that though, I wanted to take whoever had done this and set them on fire, watch as their fat bubbled and cracked the skin, watch them beg as they were roasted alive... Not that I could ever stomach doing such a thing. But some people deserved it, deserved hell and suffering for the pain they inflicted on others.

As soon as the q-tip had done its work he was back under the water rinsing away the pain. I tossed the stuff and set up one of those round finger band aids with Neosporin for him. No idea if it worked on things without flesh but if it could get infected I figured it was better safe than sorry.

He stepped out of the water, obviously done. Catching on this time without prompting, I turned off the faucet and dragged the hand towel down to him so he could dry off. Once done, I held out the band aid, and he put it on with an obviously practiced motion.

Then waved at me. “You gonna do yours or do you want to tempt me into nibbling on it some more?”

In the weird little domestic moment of helping him bathe I’d forgotten. Forgotten he had hurt me, and that I should be afraid of him. It had felt nice for a moment to be needed, that there was something however small I could do to help. Rolling my eyes as if all of this was completely normal I dug around in the box for something that'd fit the weird spot. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?"

He chuckled making me hope that he was just teasing, that maybe he did just have a different sense of humor like I did, and that maybe we could get along after all... But seeing as I already had a chunk missing it would probably be best not to risk it. I put the band aid on as best I could and ignored the small ache that came from something pressing against the hurt.

By the time I had finished putting everything back behind the mirror, he was dressed again in his old clothes.

Which reminded me I didn’t have any spares for him. Hell I had nothing for him. Not a damn thing. This wasn’t planned or impulse it was an accident and I had no idea how to take care of him and had nothing to do it with. What the fuck was I going to do? I wasn't cut out for this. I was going to kill the bitty.

I was going to kill the fucking bitty through sheer incompetence.

My zoning out must be something he was getting used to. He snapped his fingers bringing my attention back from my panicky spiral. "Sweet meat. Breakfast?"

I nodded automatically and felt his weight under my hurt ear. Band aid would probably taste like shit so hopefully he wouldn’t try taking another bite out of me. Then again my jugular was right there...

Boy I was certainly cheery this morning.

I headed over to the small kitchen, where a mountain of dirty dishes awaited me. Seeing as I still had a handful clean, I ignored them and pulled open the refrigerator. Not much looked back at me. Milk, eggs, jelly, bread... Needed to do a grocery run soon. Today actually seeing as it was my only day off this week. Thank god payday had been this weekend.

I could make him cereal but the only way he’d have of eating it would be dunking for the bits and he just got clean. I could make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but it’d be as big as he was. Would he mind that though? How much did bittys eat? How did bittys eat if they were skeletons?

“Eggs.” He said interrupting my train of thought.

Alright I could do that. I was out of butter but oil worked for frying them just was well. I grabbed the carton. “How do you like them?”

“Fertilized.” The eggs hit the counter harder than they should have.

“What?” I choked out.

He appeared beside the carton grinning at me. “And raw.”

He was fucking with me. As I processed that, he opened it up and cradled an egg to his chest, and cracked a hole in the top. Some \how he managed to slurp a bit out. Ah. Right. Supposed to feed him raw meat four times a week. I didn’t know if eggs counted but he seemed to be enjoying it.

Eggs sold in stores would never be baby chickens though, they were pasteurized or the hens just weren't let near roosters or something like that. But if he was mostly carnivorous it probably  _was_ really good for him to eat raw eggs. Full of nutrients right? so ... “Where do I get fertilized eggs?” I pondered. It was his turn to choke, coughing slimy shit all over the counter. I really need to work on that talking to myself out loud thing. Especially now that I had company.

Thankfully I was saved from whatever awful response he would have made by the phone ringing.

It took me a minute following the sound to pinpoint where I'd left my cell - on the floor next to the bathroom it turned out.

“Hello?”

“This is Momma Cry dear. Just wanted to check and see how you and the brassberry where doing. Are you getting along?”

Despite the motherly 'are you two playing nice' tone, there was an edge to that question I didn’t like. Undertone of ‘you had better be’. I literally hadn’t signed up for this.

The small irritation reminded me of my earlier fury, the feeling pooling like curdled milk in my stomach. I hated being angry, but it was for someone else and I felt allowed to express it for once. “The hell is wrong with his head lady?”

“He's a brassberry. That's normal.”

“Normal? Normal? We are many times his size, I don’t care how fucking scary or aggressive he may be! We are several times his size and cracking his skull open is not okay! What the hell kind of adoption center are you running?” My blood felt cold, and my face hot and damn it I _wasn't_ going to cry but I was so freaking upset because how could anyone do that?

 _Maybe he deserved it_ came the awful thought but I didn't _care_ that maybe it was self defense. I always side with the underdog, even when they don't fucking deserve it. Someone had hurt him, messed him up so bad that he was pretty awful himself. And I couldn't help. I couldn't do anything other than stand there and tremble in impotent rage and _not cry_ because I'm fucking useless -

Something cold and wet and viscous slid down the back of my neck causing me to scream and drop the phone. Flipping around I saw the little shit laughing from a safe distance away. From the floor came the urgent questioning voice of Momma Cry and I picked back up my phone, not sure if I was relieved or more worried once the monster vanished out of my sight.

The egg was still making its way down my back and sticking to my shirt grossly.

“Sorry. Everything's fine.” I said cradling the phone between my head and right shoulder, pulling my shirt away from my back and shaking it. I wasn't angry anymore. Just tired. But the point still had to be made. “So yeah he’s a little shit but that doesn’t give people the right to –”

She interrupted. “No dear you don’t understand. Brassberrys are born like that. It’s one of the many reasons they’re so difficult to place. That’s why I called to see how you were doing. But you seem to be getting along splendidly.”

I scoffed. “Getting along? Lady I've known him less than twenty-four hours and he’s threatened to eat me explicitly at least three times, maybe more." Then there was the fact my apartment was a mess, I had nothing to give him whatsoever either literally or emotionally. I kept expecting her or him or the universe to tell me no you can't do this, but instead the magic eight ball in my head was saying all signs point to you'd better figure it out and quickly.

She hummed in thought. “Has he actually hurt you in any way since he first bit you?”

Psychologically probably but... physically? “Well no.” Though in my opinion that was from lack of trying.

“And have you cleaned his wound yet?”

I shuddered at he memory and gave up my weird 'getting the egg of my back' dance. “Yeah he had me wipe some alcohol over it this morning.”

“Oh my. Yes if he didn’t like you dear those wouldn’t be threats. Brassberrys especially tend to lash out when getting their wound cleaned by strangers. He must be really quite taken with you.”

Right. His attachment to me. At some point I'd have to ask him about that. Maybe I could convince him I wasn't good for him. It was true. I honestly believe I'm a terrible person. A huge piece of shit. I could write out an itemized list. And he was messed up big time. No way I could help him with that, I'd only make it worse. Love may not fix problems, but it'd go a long way to helping him feel safe enough to deal with his. He needed more than I could give. Hell _I_ needed more than I could give.

But you can't just force people to see that. They want to believe the best of those they're attached to... It'd suck to disappoint him with the truth, me just being me. I'd try my best to take care of him, not kill him with incompetence until then. Because it'd be worse to reject him. I'd read up on it a bit before looking at the bittys. Some just faded to dust right then and there. I couldn't handle it. It'd be my fault either way, telling him I couldn't take care of him or proving it but I _couldn't_ have an active role in someone just willing themselves to death.

Not that passively allowing it would be much better.

I shoved my fear and self-loathing back down where they belonged. I could pretend to be a put together, well adjusted, capable adult for a couple of days until he got bored and left. “All right what do I do then? My house is not bitty friendly.”

“I can give you a list of places that sell bitty merchandise.” Following instructions. There was something I probably wouldn't fuck up.

After the phone call I checked the kitchen. It was unscathed, though the egg carton was empty and full of shells. I decided not to go looking for him. This guy was worse than an edgy so if he was wrecking the place I didn’t want to see. Besides, wasn’t like I was getting my deposit back anyways.

“I'm getting a shower.” I announced to the apartment at large, figuring he would be fine for fifteen minutes. Hell who am I kidding - I never got out faster than thirty minutes and today was definitely a 'stand under the water and contemplate my life choices' sort of day.

* * *

 

The skeleton slurped down the last of the eggs and tossed the shell into a waste bin in the bed room.

She got lost in her head a lot, he noticed. An emotion would happen and she'd be gone, eyes overfull with whatever she was thinking and feeling. He'd be left miles behind and he didn't like that one bit.

The apartment was a mess. Dusty, cluttered, barely any food, more things dirty than clean. She obviously had a habit of not taking care of herself. Helped him get clean, fed him, but did fuck all for herself. Would she have even remembered to take a shower if he hadn't wasted a perfectly good egg on her? 

...Well... not waste. She'd been angry, upset,  _shaking_ because of him. Not that silly rush that he caused in her by teasing, by scaring her but not actually hurting her. This was different. This was on behalf of him not because of him.

She _cared._ If only a little. 

Looking around the room he tried to get a feeling for her. Why did she care? Was it for him really? They barely knew one another.  _He_ cared, of course he did, but how could she?

The mattress was shoved into a corner with a bottle of water beside it. A cardboard box in a another corner contained half assed folded clothes. The whole apartment felt empty in a way that bothered him. Nothing had personal touches, just bare necessities. Under the window in the main room was where he finally found signs that his human did more than just exist here. 

Several stacks of books, fiction, spines worn from over reading. Fantasy, scifi, the occasional educational book thrown in for variety. Maybe she believed in happy endings.

Too bad he didn't. It was only a matter of time really before she realized she couldn't handle him. That he couldn't really help her. That he needed her more than she needed him. Best case scenario would be if she started using him as a whipping boy for all the things she couldn't deal with in herself. Wouldn't be a  _happy_ ending, but then they'd both have something they need. Someone else to keep them sane.

 

The water had been running for a while now, but he didn't hear the normal movement and sounds of washing. Her face flashed through his mind looking so lost, like she didn't know what to do, and he could remember that sharp feeling in her soul, that made him think... that made him _afraid._  

The door wasn't hard to open, he'd had plenty of practice living in a giants world. The room was hot and humid, steamy from the water being too hot for too long. She was standing under the stream, forehead pressed against the tile unmoving.

Vacant.

Not there.

Away from _him._

So far though she'd always come back when he called. “So you gonna name me or what sweet meat?”

His human jerked around, shocked to see him standing carefully on the back lip of the tub. Shouldn’t be surprised really that a door couldn’t actually stop him.

Every thought was plainly written on her face. She thought asking how he got in - not that it mattered, about telling him to get out - not that he would, and then resigned herself to actually talking to him - which is what he wanted.

Somehow she managed to keep her body between him and the spray as she began lathering her hair with soap. Not having hair, or much flesh for that matter, it was hard to keep his eyes focused on her face but he wanted to catch her eyes with his again. The first moment he'd felt a true connection with her, like she had really saw _him_.

“Thought you were brassberry?” She was looking in his general direction but avoided his gaze with the ease of long practice.

That was fine. He could be patient. “There’s more than one brassberry. Need a name 'less you want me to go around calling you human.”

Rinsing her hair, she nodded absently, actually thinking about it to his surprise. "I'm not great with names." She said softly. He shrugged and waited. Like he was much better essentially calling her tasty morsel?

Watching her clean herself much in the way she had him he saw how stiff and thorough she was about it. She was obviously still uncomfortable with him here, and he made a mental note not to disturb her in here unless he had too.  

Didn’t want her to be uncomfortable around him. Teasing aside he wanted her to trust him. Not that he deserved that trust. Not yet. But he could earn it. He’d make her happy and she wouldn’t feel the need to push him away. It’d just take time and patience.

"How about Tacks?" Finally she met his eyes and he could see why humans considered them windows to the soul. She really did believe in happy endings, but she was just as terrified as he was of the bad ones.

How much he could hurt her if she cared. How much she could hurt him if he did.

Just as quickly she looked away, cutting off the water and escaping to the other side of the shower curtain.

He gave her a moment. Gave her a moment because he needed one himself. She _wanted_ to care about him and that knowledge made his soul ache. Following her back to the bedroom with a short cut he answered her question. “Heh brass tacks? Fine by me.”

This time she didn't jump.

 

Still looking nervous, she avoided looking at him in favor of digging in her box of clothes, clinging to the towel. Wasn't like he hadn't just seen all that, but maybe she was shy. Never understood body shyness, maybe because he had no _body_ , but humans and monsters came out in so many different variations that it seemed pointless to judge someone based on their physical appearance. That was always more Yanyan's thing.

Speaking of Yanyan... he'd be horrified by what she was wearing. Hell _he_ was horrified. Yesterday she'd been wearing sweats and a hoodie which weren't going to win her any beauty pageants, but they weren't awful. Not like this.

His human looked like a cross between an elementary school teacher and a kid going to her first job interview. Professional, uncomfortable looking, and like the life was being sucked out of her. She hadn’t had much spirit in her to begin with in the first place, and now she was killing it with clothes of all things.

“You're not wearing that.” The words were out of his mouth without conscious thought. He didn't care what she looked like as long as she was comfortable, but if he'd thought she'd looked upset at being naked, she looked worse now that she was dressed.

Flushing, she dug through yesterday’s clothes to pull out her wallet and keys. "This is fine." The words were said quietly but firmly, and at any other time he'd be glad she was starting to show some back bone, but there was no way he was letting her wear that.

“I hate it. Change. Now.” He demanded. She just looked so unhappy. Why was she fighting him on this? Why was she wearing clothes that obviously made her feel like shit?

She looked helplessly at the box and back at him. Surely she had something better in there. "Hell Sweet Meat, _you_ hate it." He teleported into the box, haphazardly digging for something that didn't look like it was _killing_ her to wear.

 "I'm going to the store. I should look presentable." The stubborn tone was his humans but the words were  _not._ Anyone who had two weeks’ worth of dishes in their sink couldn't care less about looking nice. Someone had trained her to believe that. To make her feel terrible being herself. 

He flung a baggy black t-shirt and a pair of cargo capris out of the box, barely containing his growl. He wasn't angry at _her_ , he was mad at whoever had taught his human to hate herself, to believe she had to dress to conform to other people’s standards.

" **Change.** " He repeated climbing out of the box. She held her ground, arms crossed defensively over her chest.

Of course _now_ she'd stop being compliant, when he was actually trying to help her. "I'll look like a slob." 

Again with the self-negativity. He hated that, hated it, _hated it_.  

"Who gives a shit?" He yelled at her. "You're going grocery shopping not on a date! You really gonna gonna go outta your way to make fussy old ladies happy when it obviously makes you feel like shit?"

For a moment he thought he'd gotten through to her. She looked away, arms dropping and shoulders slumping. But she wasn't conceding defeat to _him_. “Yes.”

A handful of different emotions went through him. He should give up. She was broken and knew it...and chose to stay broken. She wouldn't mind if he gave up. In fact she'd probably prefer it.

Let her fade away.

But she'd gone to the bitty store looking for something. A friend, a life line, a reason to keep going. Fact of the matter was he needed those things too and had decided that she was it. He _needed_ her to keep going even if she didn't want to and she _needed_ someone to keep her going. They could take turns prodding each other when they felt like falling apart.

He took a short cut to her right shoulder. "Doin this the hard way then."

Grabbing firmly onto her ear, digging in his sharp phalanges, he pulled just hard enough to show he wasn't kidding. "You got five seconds to start changing or I'm gonna make you look like Picasso."

She swiped at him, which was a vast improvement of mood already, but he simply teleported away and back dodging effortlessly.

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two." She dived for the clothes on the floor. He watched from the bed, happy to see the life back in her, frustration making her own personality shine brightly through whatever it was that had her lock it away.

"Looky here you little asshole -"

"Names Tacks sweet meat."

Letting out a frustrated huff she shimmed into the new pants. She did look like a slob, but she also looked like she felt better, anger and all. "Fine. Tacks.” His name from her lips for the first time. “You can't just keep threatening me to get whatever you want." Hell she was even challenging him. Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Maybe she just had just needed a little push.

Tiredly he sent himself back to her shoulder, nuzzling his face against her still racing pulse. "Why not? S'working beautifully." It was. She was focused on him, she wasn't drowning inside. Overall this was working out pretty well. "'sides, its for your own good."

Her hand lifted up, hesitating before she reached him. Instead she collected her stuff and headed out towards the door. "Right. Murderous skeleton is exactly what I needed to get my life on track." He was disappointed but that was okay. He didn't need affection. He just needed her to be okay. And as long as he was around, she would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 kudos? Man I've got y'all fooled. I mean, I accidentally kudos'd my own story because I'm a dumbass on mobile who missed the [top] button but what's ya'lls excuse? I can't write at aaaaaaaaall. 
> 
> You are a delight though, so thank you. ^~^


	5. I'll be the gun, you be the glue and someday we'll be better than new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which this is why I can't have nice things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha 100+ how did I fool yall? Delightful but... See now I'm worried. 
> 
> Because... this might have something resembling a happy ending at some point but uh... Nothing about their relationship is exactly healthy savvy?

Lets pretend for a moment that you can decided to just feel okay. Like a light switch or just opt out of negative emotions entirely.

_Would you?_

It would be freeing wouldn't it? To not feel bad... To just not care _finally_ after caring so much about every little thing all the time. 

Good days would have no draw backs, bad days just suddenly wouldn't be anymore.

Turn off the give a damn and just have some fun.

_You'd do it right?_

Name any other emotion no matter how bad. I'd rather suffer through any of them than a single hour of this devil may care attitude.

It's a dangerous feeling. A dark one.

I don't know what to call it, but its the only time I'm unconditionally happy and I hate it.

Its like being a shooting star. You're on fire but it feels so good.

Magnificent.

Intoxicating.

Going out with a bang.

This is the feeling I went out consumed by as I shopped with the bitty.

 

Budget? Really? Who _cared_? I barely scrapped by most months on bills anyways, didn't go out, didn't do _anything._ You got to treat yourself right? Why not in literal treats?

So instead of my usual cheap fair, I bought everything I could think of that the bitty might want and grabbed a few things for myself. Food may be transient, but so is life.

I ignored looks that both I and Tacks got in spades, stood up straight and confidant, looked through people because honestly who gave a damn if I was dressed like a poor slob who didn't look old enough to be out shopping on my own? What fucking business was it of theirs if there happened to be a skeleton with a biker's aesthetic riding on my shoulder?

I was on a _roll_. The only hold up being the register lady.

"Oooh, poor thing! What happened to him!" The woman cooed at Tacks. Okay sure he had a bandage on his head and was 'smol'. Cute, I know. But I didn't _want_ to have polite conversations with strangers, I wanted to have  _fun._

I waited until her hand was half way to my shoulder. "He murdered his last owner." I said dryly.

She froze, looking between me and him, not quite sure if I was serious. I was, as a heart attack. I was also just making shit up.

"The man put up a fight of course, but honesty he got what was coming to him. You don't get between a brassberry and their food." I tilted my head to the side to show her the bandaid covering my obviously missing chunk of ear. "Luckily this is my first day with him and he let me off with a warning."

Tacks giggled. Giggled in his too deep voice and the cashier visibly paled. It was creepy as fuck I had to admit but... A mean smile cut across my face. It was nice being the fucker instead of the fucked with.

She checked us out in record time.

 

Having bought too much, it was hard to carry all of the bags and then fit them and myself onto one seat, but I managed. I always managed somehow.

Usually I'd need my music on and blasting in my ears. I _hate_ being trapped on a bus with a bunch of people. There's something about being in close quarters that makes people social. They get used to your face, feel like they know you, and want to get to know you... In more ways then one. But I was still  _happy._ Still having  _fun._  

I felt invincible. 

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" I worked as a cashier, I road the bus, and before that... Well I saw a lot of people. It was possible that he'd seen me somewhere. But the one hard fast rule I kept while I was out, is that anyone I'm going to want to talk to will know my name. He didn't. I looked at him and away, dismissively. "Hey I'm talking to you, why you gotta be rude like that, didn't anybody ever teach you any manners?" Usually I'd have my music in and could pretend not to have heard him. Usually, I'd make nice small talk to prevent him from getting mad.

Usually.

Let him get mad, for today I didn't care. I felt _good._ Nothing he could say or do could ruin that. And if he tried? I smiled staring straight out the window, feeling wild and dangerous. I'd chew him up and spit him out the other side. I was  _meaner_ than he was and part of me was itching to prove it.

Luckily, we were on a packed bus during daylight hours. Luckily, I didn't feel the need to provoke him by saying one of the many horrible things I was thinking. Luckily, Tacks growled. 

The man visibly flinched and I couldn't help but laugh. I had been so scared before of everything and everyone but now everything was delightful, even the things that could hurt me. "Awww is someone afraid of the spooky scary skeleton?"

The man muttered out something that sounded like bitch and moved to a seat further away. I could feel his angry gaze on me and I continued smiling, glad inside.

 

I carried the groceries home and put them away. The usual odious chore of figuring out how to secure my food from mice seemed to fly by and I fretted around the house, waiting the requisite hour for the bus to return as the bitty watched me in silence.

I let the silence stand.

Didn't fill it with mindless chatter or conversation, didn't wash it away with the radio. It didn't bother me. At all.

I was like a completely different person. My heart was pounding loudly in my chest and I was excited, thrilled even at all I had accomplished and everything I had left to do.

The gross pile in the sink was washed finally. The laundry collected from the floor and pilled in the half of the bathroom that _should_ have contained a washer and dryer. I even swept.

I let the silence stand.

Things were getting done. Finally.

This should be a good thing right?

Except nothing mattered. _Nothing_ mattered and I wasn't worried and it was _delightful_ , just as somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was **horrifying**.

I wish I could make you understand what its like to streak across the sky as a shooting star. Its not something to wish for at all, no matter how it may look from the outside.

 

The bus swung through again and we were off, this time to find bitty merchandise. For small things they were sure expensive. But I wanted to get them. I could finally do something nice for someone else, spoil them rotten, make them love me -

"I want you to stop." The quiet voice was one I hadn't heard before. It was the familiar, low rumble I was coming accustomed to... It just had never sounded like this.

It wasn't threatening or confidant.

It was confused.

Lost.

Sad even.

And it was my fault.

Suddenly everything mattered again. It hit me all at once, all the money I spent, my behavior, just everything. I couldn't afford any of this. I had known that throughout the day and did it anyways.

I looked at the pile of stuff I'd gathered. Shouldn't buy it, but I'd already damned MYself down this path. I hadn't even asked the bitty what _he_ wanted. At all today. Just treated him like some sort of weird shoulder ornament.

I felt sick. Tired. Drained. Grocery shopping was hell on its own but then I came out and did this too. Two trips out when you go by bus makes for an all day venture surrounded by people. Judging people. So much social interaction today and all of it without my practiced scripts, without doing any of it right.

I had been cold. Uncaring. Rude, disrespectful. I hadn't had a plan. I _shouldn't_ have baited those people, shouldn't have mocked them. I could have started a fight on the bus. I could have flirted with him instead because I just didn't give a damn about the consequences. I had spent all day not being me and now I was paying the price.

I just wanted to go home. Just leave everything and go. But then I would have to just come out and do this again later.

So I gathered the basket and headed over to the check out, suddenly subdued and empty. I didn't raise a fuss when Tacks took over from there. Sorting through the goods, passing over my card when I just stared at the cashier blankly. Didn't even register how he got us out of there without being coddled or making threats.

That's whats so awful about that mood. I know what I'm doing, saying, that its all wrong, that it'll bite me in the ass later but I just don't care. Because for a little while I felt powerful and bright. I was a shooting start and didn't care that I'm on fire or about to slam into the ground.

Because everything about it felt amazing.

And the impact would be.

so.

 _satisfying_.

 

Every time I have strong emotions I’m afraid.

Because all roads lead to Rome – not the height of civilization Rome either, but the Nero fiddles as it burns Rome.

Feeling so good, action without care to the consequences… god coming down from that high leaves me drained and worse off than if I had experienced it naturally. Instead of little pinpricks of drama and doubt and emotional pain throughout the day, it was a tidal wave of self loathing that hit me.

But I had to be okay.

I had to.

Tacks was worried. He needed me to be okay.

 

So… I was.

* * *

Something in his human shifted after they left the house.

It was like a light switch.

Her posture changed, her attitude, her smile… everything. It wasn’t forced and she wasn’t _gone_ like she had a habit of doing... But there was something _wrong_ and he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

She was humming, smiling at people but otherwise ignoring them. She picked out food without hesitation. There was no sign of how lost she usually felt, no feeling of hesitation or cringing even when actually interacting with others. But whoever was home inside didn’t feel like his human.

Sure technically he barely knew her but he was a brassberry and this was _his_ human. The way she'd been acting wasn't bad exactly...But it hadn't been her either.

The air of enjoyment was sharp.

Desperate.

When she spoke he could _hear_ his human, but it didn’t _feel_ like her.

About the time she started piling up on a ridiculous number of items of anything that he so much as glanced at, he decided he’d had enough.

Whatever this mood was, it needed to end. He didn't like it. It didn't feel _right_. Tacks needed her to be alright.

He called and she came back.

There was some warmth to that.

She blinked at him and he could feel the weirdness fade from her like a fever dream.

Check out went smoothly, he managed to par down the collection of goods to something he wanted and would use. His human wasn't all there again but honestly it was better than whatever she'd been doing before.

At least right now she _needed_ him.

 

By the time they got home she was back together again. "All that running around, you must be _starving_." It was true that they hadn't eaten since breakfast... Actually he didn't think she'd eaten at all today. That wasn't a good habit for her to have. He'd have to get her to take care of herself better.

Setting up her laptop to play a movie on the card table, she went to cook dinner. "After all," she joked, "Don't want what happened to your last owner to happen to me." Tacks wondered what she'd do if he told her that she wasn't far off, he _had_ murdered his last owner. Hadn't eaten him though. Bad blood between them. Grinning, he started paying attention to the show.

It was surprisingly dark and bloody, but everyone was constantly singing. Think she'd called it a rock opera. As it played she poorly sang along, banging around in the kitchen. Tacks found himself watching her instead. Every time she caught him looking she'd falter and drop it for a moment, only to pick up the song a couple of verses later. Eventually he got better at staring without being caught, and her voice was just as much a constant background noise as the movie was. 

 _This_ was his human.

 

While they had picked up bitty sized utensils, Tacks didn't really want to bother with the polite niceties of properly cutting up his food. He was ravenous by the time the food was cooked. The chicken breast was coated in enough lemon pepper to be unrecognizable as any sort of meat, but he ate it and one raw one as well as some of the broccoli she'd made to go with. As if for payback of all the staring he'd done earlier, she watched him eat with rapt fascination, and would have forgotten her own food if not for his prompting. 

Licking his fingers clean of chicken slime Tacks grinned at her. “go ahead and ask sweet meat.”

“Can you get salmonella?”

That wasn’t what he was expecting. Maybe something along the lines of 'where does it all go' or 'how can you eat so much being so small'. "What?"

"Its just that usually eating meat raw can make you sick and chicken can’t be left out too long without increasing the possibility of it making you sick so I was thinking of freezing some but I didn’t want to not have any available if you get hungry for some…"

Incredulously he gestured at himself. "not going to ask how all this works?"

Rolling her eyes she copied his gesture. "Pfft. I already know too much about how all _this_ works, unless its like something I’ll need to know in case of emergency, I’d rather just assume you’ve got yourself well in hand."

The words had barely left her mouth before it seemed to dawn on her what she said. She opened her mouth to qualify her statement but then looked away. He thought about making the comment anyways, but had anyone told her exactly how to 'handle' a bitty? About heats? He'd made sure they'd gotten a tank to keep him in, and hidden it away in the closet but... suddenly he didn't feel like making the obvious joke. Ultimately the joke was on him anyways.

 

A baggy shirt and shorts were much more comfortable sleepwear than his jeans and jacket, though honestly he could and had slept in just about anything. He turned around from changing to see his human lifting up the mattress and looking under it and around it nervously.

"I don’t like mice." She said in explanation, setting it down and making it halfway presentable and inviting looking.

"You have mice?" There was barely anything in the apartment, didn't seem like a place that would attract rodents.

Yeah sorry. Landlord threw down some poison and said that if they died and stunk up the walls that’d be on me but… uh didn’t seem to work so well cause we still have plenty. Don’t see them though unless I leave food out or the pantry isn’t shut all the way. Its just… They might try to nest in the corner by the mattress if I don’t check… it’s a silly fear I know. They’re just tiny mice, not even rats but…" Trailing off she shrugged and killed the lights.

He now had his own pillow and blanket on the bed, and she held perfectly still on her side of the bed. Probably worried about rolling over on him or something. Tacks considered asking to sleep on her chest, sitting on her shoulder had been nice but he still longed to be closer to her. Listening to her heartbeat might even send him to sleep, an activity he rarely participated in.

This wasn't about him though, he sternly reminded himself. This was about her. He wanted her to feel comfortable to feel safe…with him. Someday their lives would fit seamlessly together. He just had to be patient. He could wait.

He just needed her to be okay. That's it. That was everything.

 

Some time around one she moved. Sat up and just sat there staring out into the dark, knees held up to her chest.

Quietly she murmured “I’m sorry.” Over and over again… At the first sniffle he sat up and teleported to the top of her knees. Her eyes were filled with tears and she didn’t seem to notice him until he patted the top of her head.

She sat up quickly whipping her face. “Oh hey sorry to wake you, um nightmare you know? Shouldn’t have watched that scary movie before bed.”

He just stared.

Waiting.

“Its okay if you just go back to sleep, I’m fine really.” He could see she meant it. She’d bottled everything back up and _was_ fine… for now.

He just contained to stare.

Finally she broke. “What do you want from me? Why do you bother sticking around? You don’t have  to you know. Its okay for you to just leave.”

Is this something she was afraid of? So little time together and he was already integral to her life. _Good._

“is that what you want?” He asked quietly.

"Yes. No… I don’t know. Why are you being nice to me? What do _you_ want.”

He knew. Knew deep in his soul he wasn’t anything resembling nice. Just like he knew he wouldn’t leave even if she did want him to.

"just want you to be okay." A watered down version of the truth, but what she needed to hear right now.

"I’m just so tired of being broken." His human, strong enough to put aside her feelings for him, saying that was not okay.

He smacked her bandaged ear. "Ow, fuck, what the hell?”

"is it broken?" Tacks growled out.

"What?" Either she was getting used to his irritation or the pain was enough to distract her from being afraid.

"your ear, is it broken?"

"No it just hurts like a sonofabitch."

"well the same goes for the rest of you. sure you’re hurting a whole hell of a lot on the inside, but you’re not completely broken."

Her eyes met his eyes, searching for something. Really seeing him again. "Was that really necessary?"

Tacks shrugged. "its just pain. you’ll live."

His human started crying, heavily. Slid back down into the covers, saying things like 'I'm sorry' and 'please don't leave me alone'. He was there with her the entire time, petting the back of her head soothingly and helping her ride it out.

Finally she crashed, emotions spent.

She slept, and he kept watch, defending her from any possible nightmares.

 

The next day dawned far too early.

A loud buzz of her phone vibrating against the wood floors. He grumbled and buried his head deeper into the pillow, while he felt the mattress move as she smoothly rolled herself out of bed and turned it off.

There was muffled cursing, and he could follow the sound of her footsteps as she left the room as quietly as she could, got a sower, got dressed, and finally left.

Blessed peace…

She was gone.

Without him.

Suddenly he didn’t feel like sleeping anymore.

He teleported to the kitchen, seeing a note stuck on the refrigerator.

Had her work hours, told him to text her through her email if he needed anything, an apology if she woke him, and suggestions for what he could do all day.

Tacks ripped up the paper in agitation.

And then began to pace.

It took him all over the house.

Still boring and barely furnished. He could use the computer, but he was too antsy without her. He could look through what little she did have, maybe find out something new but she wasn’t here. He could eat but why bother?

He hated being alone.

She wasn’t here and he couldn’t protect her if he wasn’t with her.

She lived in a bad neighborhood. That was clear from looking out the windows. She took the bus usually, but claimed to be walking to and from work today for some reason.

He didn’t know where she worked.

He didn’t know where she was.

He paced angrily. Teleporting at random times to expel the pent up energy.

There came the sound of scurrying in the walls, and suddenly he knew what he _could_ do. He could hunt. Tear. Rip… he’d take it out on the mice, get rid of them and take his aggression out on them. How dare they scare his human. She should feel safe in the place she slept.

The redirect worked, and given an outlet his anger faded.

Tacks wanted her to like him.

He wanted her to trust him.

He wanted to make her depend on him, need him, until she couldn’t function without him.

He crawled through a hole poorly filled with steel wool. It didn’t do anything to keep the mice out, and didn’t begin to stop him from going in. Along the way he found the basement, and the huge barely blocked hole in the wall that let all the mice in… It was a surprise nothing else was living in the building with them honestly, maybe during winter something would be tempted. He hoped so at any rate.

Mice, it turned out, weren’t half so challenging to kill as people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah again. Just going to put this out there because suddenly I feel like I'm in over my head... If someone treats you the way that this brassberry does in this fic (from the start of this fic on honestly), that's not okay. I don't care how nice they are in their good moments this is NOT healthy or okay. 
> 
> Even if you're into alternative lifestyles... The rule is Safe, Sane, and Consensual. Nobody is allowed to treat you like shit okay? Not ever. and if you're into that, that's okay but there's things like after-care and... 
> 
> Just remember you ALWAYS have the ability at any time for any reason to change your mind and say no okay? That goes for EVERYTHING in a relationship not just sex. 
> 
> okay so that's your weird ass psa. sorry to bug. just... look I plan mixing dark and sweet things and I don't want to mislead anyone.


End file.
